


Cheer up, I believe in you!

by FluffWitch



Category: Undertale
Genre: Comforting Frisk, F/M, Female Chara, Genocide Route, Male Frisk, im sorry, kids having a sad time before bad time, sad chara
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-23
Updated: 2017-07-23
Packaged: 2018-12-05 19:32:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 570
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11584710
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FluffWitch/pseuds/FluffWitch
Summary: “I wanted to cheer you up. It worked.” It's his answer, blunt and honest, just like him. She likes him.





	Cheer up, I believe in you!

“Why are you crying?”

Chara gives a quiet sniffle, burrowing her face even further in her sleeves. What little leftover of her SOUL was still intact was hurting, aching like something was squeezing it and crumbling it to nothing.

The squeaky voice stays silent for a few seconds before coming closer. The child hears footsteps growing near and she can’t help but cower.

“Are you sad?”

“Mmm…”

She sounds pathetic, looks the part, too. Sitting quietly in the stone cold floor, hugging her own knees and sniffling like a lost little kid. She’s pretty sure her body is trembling slightly, enough to be barely noticeable, at least. It’s embarrassing and a sign of weakness she hates.

“Don’t worry! I know It’ll be alright.”

“...Really?”

Even her voice sounds pitiful, but the other doesn’t seems to care.

“I know things seem hard now, and that you want to give up…” They trailed off, sounding uncertain before the voice came back with a cheerfulness that almost gave Chara an ounce of HOPE.

Almost.

“But! You can do it! I know you can!”

More footsteps, Chara wipes her face with her sleeves, perpetually rosy cheeks making her look as if she had been crying for ages. “Heh…”

“For I am the great Papyrus!”

Chara smiles a bit, just a tad, when Frisk steps forwards, hands coated in a thin layer of dust and a very small, unnoticeable smile on his face as he clutches a skull, lips parting slightly as he moves the cranium’s jaw to give the illusion of talking through movement.

“And I believe in you!”

“Haha…”

Frisk kneels next to her, handing her the skull with much care, as if he was passing along the holy grail. Chara smiles at him, gently running her fingers along the cranium. She traces eye sockets and teeth, looking at them as if it were a particularly interesting new toy.

“You seemed sad.” Frisk speaks, quietly and barely above a whispers, unlike the mockup of the skeleton's voice he was doing mere seconds ago. “Are you okay?”

“Uh-huh. Don’t worry partner.” Chara mumbles back, giving a ghost of her ever present smile, red eyes twinkling just slightly as a small rush of affection goes through her. “You’re such a dork.”

“I wanted to cheer you up. It worked.” It's his answer, blunt and honest, just like him. She likes him.

Chara giggles a bit, smile small before going carefully blank, still inspecting the skull. “I’m okay.”

Frisk hums, a sounds that immediately gives away the fact that he doesn’t believes her. He stay in place for a minute, letting Chara trace her finger over the skull’s features, listening to her counting the teeth he didn’t kicked out of the skull under her breath. She still looked sad, less than before, but still sad. He had to fix that.

“Here.” He offers his hand, and Chara absentmindedly takes it. Frisk doesn’t helps her up right away, looking off and pointing in the distance as something shuffled behind a building, slow and cautious, disappearing from sight as if it was never there. “There’s still one skeleton left.”

Chara nods, still holding the skull like a delicate gift. She stares at where Frisk points at, tilting her head slightly. “Uh-huh.”

“C’mon.” Frisk tugs at her hand, helping her up. His free hand going for the pan both of them had deemed a good weapon. “Let’s get him.”

**Author's Note:**

> Im having feels so what's better than to write them through fandom?  
> Based on a comic I saw for a sec.


End file.
